The Wicked Tree of Rid

The sky was with rain that day
and I was at the wicked tree.
I knelt and began to pray
like so many had before me.
~
The blackened branches link a path
between the great divide and here.
I prayed on the perilous wrath
seen by my mind's seer.
~
Crazy as it be of me,
I knocked the wood three times.
I held my breath to see
the rite of Ancient crimes.
~
And nothing the tree gave to me
after all the time I’d spent.
And crazy as it be of me,
I snapped a branch (repent):
~
Oh God – I broke the link.
And stepped back I did:
For now there was a kink
in the wicked tree of Rid.
~
My eyes were vast oceans
And my nose a spastic vent:
I witnessed the birth of motions
That started what came and went.
~
I bowed before the wicked tree,
Humbled by its powers.
A new branch grew key
To the life of rising towers.
~
And what before me fell
was an answer in the rain.
And though my eyes -- a well,
I knew it'd be our gain.
~
A red tear swam down my cheek
and I knew just what it meant:
It is time to come and seek
what our tree has graciously sent.
~
The answer was indescribable
And only I knew what it was:
A form of love so accessible
that it died by our ‘because’
~
And that wasn’t good enough for me –
Not today – as I lay before the wicked tree.

Yay! I really like this Jon, I think it's great! Your rhymes don't feel forced, and you've got the poetic examples that tend to be missing in a lot of narrative poetry.

The only two things are that by the end I kind of lost what you were trying to convey, and this line here.

A red tear swam down my cheek

Yuck, too overused.

But lovely poem, thanks for posting!

~Hope <3

Hi Jon, it's really been quite a while since I've done a proper critique, so we'll see how this goes. I hope you'll value my advice.

The sky was brimming with rain that day
and I was at the wicked tree.
I knelt down and began to pray
like so many had before me.

The first line is a bit of a mouthful, really not very poetic in sound at all. In its reading, you don't really get any "prettiness" value out of it. "Brimming" isn't really a good word to use; it's passive and not very visual. That whole line may need work. The second line however is excellent. It is intriguing and even evokes an image without trying too hard to do so. Right here is where I'll comment on the title: it really takes away from the impact of the second line. I think "The Wicked Tree" would work so much better; either that or something that completely avoids a wicked tree so that we get that impact when reading it.

The next two lines are a bit commonplace, but fitting. Perhaps something a bit more active as opposed to "beginning to pray". Some visual images would work well: clasped hands, bowed head, etc.

Rhyme scheme is a bit forced, though playing around with it could work. Otherwise I would ditch it completely.

The blackened branches linked a path
between the great divide and here.
AndI prayed on the perilous wraths
seen by my mind's seer.

The first two lines do well to express spirituality in a visual manner. Nicely done. I'm a bit off-put by the second two lines though. The alliteration in the third line is nice, but I'm not sure "wraths" is really the right word you want to use here. "Seen" and "seer" are redundant, and I don't think "mind's seer" is a good combination of words. I've heard of the "mind's ear", not sure if that's what you meant. If not, then "mind's seer" is too close to that and should be reworked.

Crazy as it be of me,
I knocked the wood three times.
I held my breath to see
the rite of Ancient crimes.

This is where I think your poem starts to morph into something other than what you were at in the first two stanzas. It goes from a sort of high spirituality to a somewhat silly ritual. The first line should be struck, not just because of its odd phrasing, but because it leads the reader to believe this previously solemn and spiritual person has suddenly done something kinda loopy. The knocking part is interesting, but with the image of a "wicked" tree, it seems kind of absurd to just knock it. A suggestion might be to have a more violent ritual to evoke these crimes: breaking a branch, scraping its bark. I like the idea of holding your breath. "See" is boring.

And what before me fell
was an answer in the rain.
And though my eyes -- a well,
I knew it'd be our gain.

You've done a nice job building suspense with the breath-holding, but this stanza doesn't pay off. The first two lines do well to keep the suspense continued, the last two are a complete let down. Unless I missed something, you don't say what it is. Unless it's a well, but I interpreted the well comment to be a metaphor for your eyes (which isn't very original in any case). The gain comment doesn't really anything here and could be replaced with something more visual or reflective.

A red tear swam down my cheek
and I knew just what it meant:
It is time to come and seek
what our tree has graciously sent.

Oh yes, indeed, bondgirl was correct that that first line needs to go and you probably suspected that already. This whole last stanza really does need work. Where the beginning of your poem appeals to the spiritual/abstract, the end doesn't. It doesn't really do much of anything. I still don't know what the tree gave you, or how it is significant. And it's a bit confusing that the wicked tree is giving...if you want your narrator to be receiving from a wicked tree, you should probably indicate that earlier. This last stanza doesn't conclude anything, it floats off into nothingness. We should probably get a final reason why the narrator is there and why that is significant.

That said, your poem is quite well written. I tend to be the most critical on works that have good promise, so that's a compliment to your writing. Keep it up, I'd love to see a revision.

Thank you Bond and Trident!

Trident -- I get what you mean about evoking a more violent action from the narrator to get something return. (Thank you for that Idea!)

Also, I agree...it kinda' does float off into nothingness. Haha. (I'll change the last stanza up a bit and add another.)

Thankyou!


-Jon

Hello, Jon!

The sky was • with rain that day

You seem like you're missing an adjective, dear. Heavy, laden, blue, -- anything. It feels like there's a hole you need to fill in.

and I was at the wicked tree.
I knelt and began to pray
like so many had before me.

Wicked being associated with prayer is an interesting thing. You need more images and stuff here, because this is boring to me. What kind of knees did you kneel on? Troubled ones? Happy ones? Thankful ones? What kind of souls prayed there before? Young, old, troubled, sick?

~

The blackened branches link a path
between the great divide and here.
I prayed on the perilous wrath
seen by my mind's seer.

Hm, I understand what you're trying to say here, but! I would bridge this stanza to the next, because there's too many words here and not enough information. Instead of trying to rhyme, Jon, you should focus on getting your message down perfectly.

~
Crazy as it be of me,
I knocked the wood three times.
I held my breath to see
the rite of Ancient crimes.
~
And nothing the tree gave to me
after all the time I’d spent.
And crazy as it be of me,
I snapped a branch (repent):
~
Oh God – I broke the link.
And stepped back I did:
For now there was a kink
in the wicked tree of Rid.

These three stanzas particularly bug me, because the rhyme is too obvious to the point where you're forcing both the words and the rhyme, dear. They don't hold much significance to me, from my point of view, anyway, not that it counts for much , but I think that you should try to be concise! Forget the rhyme for a moment, and try to say what you want -- incorporate more sensory details so that we can visualize everything you're exploring in this poem.

My eyes were vast oceans
And my nose a spastic vent:
I witnessed the birth of motions
That started what came and went.

Love the image in the first two line. The last two lines, the last especially kind of wear on in a boring manner. Focus on interest and meaning.

~
I bowed before the wicked tree,
Humbled by its powers.
A new branch grew key
To the life of rising towers.
~
And what before me fell
was an answer in the rain.
And though my eyes -- a well,
I knew it'd be our gain.

All of this information could be compacted into two lines. Is that supposed to be though or through?

~
A red tear swam down my cheek
and I knew just what it meant:
It is time to come and seek
what our tree has graciously sent.

No no nononono! Red tear is a clicheeeee. (*cries*) The image doesn't do much for my brain, for reasons I'll explain when I summarize...

~
The answer was indescribable
And only I knew what it was:
A form of love so accessible
that it died by our ‘because’
~
And that wasn’t good enough for me –
Not today – as I lay before the wicked tree.

I don't think this ending does the poem justice! I was kind of expecting all of this building up to give a really powerful message at the end, and it kind of fell over.

So! Let's summarize

- I'd like to see you write a poem without rhyme. You rely too much on it, dear, and it restrains you, because you repeat ideas too much when you can be propelling the poem forward. Freewrite. It will benefit.

- Connect what you say to what you said. Your poem suffers from lack of connectivity in the stanzas; you have good ideas, but you need to better execute them, because they tend to fall out when you don't. It's like a jungle gym of ideas and you need to ground the monkeys and organize them.

June

Jon! You didn't tell me you'd written this!

I love this, really. I love how it progresses, and the terms you use. I love how it flows and I just love it. ^^ Really, it makes me happy to read it.

I do have one little qualm with this stanza:
"The blackened branches link a path
between the great divide and here.
I prayed on the perilous wrath
seen by my mind's seer."

The rhyming here is getting in the way of sense, as well as the fact that "here" and "seer" don't really rhyme, so it's frustrating to read. I'd also ditch the tildes between your stanzas, unnecessary frills, right there.

I'm going to disagree with June here and say that your ideas, and the connectivity, are wonderful. Your poem is stepped, one stanza per event, and it works. The rhyme - while you know I despise rhyme particularly - is not bad at all, and I think it suits the poem itself. You're not writing a happy poem, or even a modern poem. This is a medieval poem of repentance and understanding. The language you use compliments this wonderfully, and you structure your sentences in a way which makes sense while keeping with the theme.

Added to which, I loved the ending. Your poem isn't theatrical or upbeat, there aren't "events" as such, but just things that happen, if that makes sense. None of this feels like a big deal, you're understanding the entire situation in your tone and in your language, and I think it's beautiful. The ending suits the rest of the poem. Not all poems need to pop, some just are. This one, just is.

I absolutely love it.

*hearts* Le Penguin.